


Succulence

by AvatarMi_Chan



Series: I Have Loved the Stars Too Fondly to be Fearful of the Night [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M, Romance, SUPER CHEESY, Sad, Short Story, Smut, also, i don't know what to say, i just had some images in my head i wanted to write, slightly dark?, that last scene, you will know when you read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6618736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvatarMi_Chan/pseuds/AvatarMi_Chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something in the forbidden.</p><p>That fruit, which, sweeter than any other drips its thick, glistening, honeyed juices down parted and waiting lips, dribbling in excessive succulence and choking when swallowed.</p><p>And Dipper Pines was utterly consumed.<br/>********************</p>
            </blockquote>





	Succulence

There was something in the forbidden. In the quite breaths rising faster and faster, hastily bitten off with the gnawing of raw, red lips. In the looks cast across rooms filled to the brim and yet utterly empty but for those eyes - those bright hazel eyes with their playful lilt that seemed to speak words without even blinking, and were capable of burning through him faster than lightening.

In late night meetings and hushed whispers and those things that really shouldn’t be but somehow, against all odds, are anyway.

Yes, there is something in the forbidden. The taboo. But Dipper Pines was by no means the type of man to be easily swayed into such gilded promises. It was not that he had an unwavering ego – like his great uncle Stan ,or a mind of steel – like his great uncle Ford. He possessed not a heart of gold, like his sister, or any other trait that made him particularly acclimated to such things as sacrifice or deals with the devil.

The young brunette was not a bad person, not really. He was raised with sound morals and a strong head upon his shoulders.

They said he was going places. They said he’d do things. Things like his Grunkle Ford.

Great things.

But you see, the thing about shadows is that they make it hard to see in front of you. So even though you are content in your place - happy to remain docile and blind - for the darkness to gently lead you down the right path like a frightened child – occasionally you get the urge to look.

It was just a peek, really. If Dipper had known what his little adventure beyond his set path would result in, he probably wouldn’t have gone out that night.

Maybe he wouldn’t have let his curiosity get the better of him when he heard about the strange rituals taking place in the woods behind that one park that no one ever goes to anymore. Maybe he would’ve let sleeping demons lie. Maybe he would’ve been able to sit back and remain in blissful ignorance – unaware of those sweet things, those mouthwatering, dolce, deadly things that awaited him somewhere just beyond the darkness.

Or, maybe he would’ve. But Dipper really didn’t want to think about that.

It all started with a branch. Rather cliché, really. He should’ve seen it coming, should’ve felt it underfoot and stopped himself.

Perhaps it was the blood, the endless pool of red flowing out of the mutilated and pulpy mass of what had once been a deer. Or perhaps it was the strangely hooded figures or the scent of iron and brimstone filling his nostrils and lungs like lead cotton balls and choking the air out of him with each slow intake.

Or, perhaps, it was the being who appeared like the sun after a particularly heavy rainstorm - through parting clouds and darkness like a golden ray, auric and warm. The sight of him was like a breath taken just before awakening, that filling of your lungs as in your dream you find yourself falling - nothing beneath your feet, nothing anywhere but darkness and the unknown and your stomach leaps into your throat and you gasp and then your eyes are open and you are awake.

You are awake.

And Dipper was very much awake. He could feel it in the blood rushing hot through his veins, through his racing heart, and yet he had the distinct feeling as he gazed into those amber hues that he was sleeping, eyes closed, falling into that abysmal unknown.

That he would not be awakening anytime soon.

The hooded figures turned in a flowing mass of dark velvet and guttural groans that sounded more like the hissing of a thousand small legs in unison.

In that moment Dipper knew that he would die.

He knew that the next morning his sister would wake up alone in their shared room. She would think nothing of it, of course - Dipper had the habit of staying out late after all. But then an hour would pass. 

Then another.

And another.

The sun would make its slow and heavy movement across the sky to the west, and as it hung low -disintegrating into long shadows and seeping hues which stain the sky like spilled paint - she and their uncles would go to the police.

They would search for him, he knew, fanning through the darkness for any sign of a boy who once was but was no longer.

But there would be none.

And, eventually there would be a funeral with an empty coffin covered in pale blue hydrangeas and wild flowers. His twin would cry.

His uncles would cry too.

They would clutch dirt in their hands, warming it as if the heat from their sweaty palms would reach their loved one - wherever he was. And then the coffin would be put to rest beneath the soil – the proof of Dipper’s existence marked by a single tombstone amongst many.

Yes, tonight was the night that all of Dipper’s potential came to an end. The night that all he was came to a sudden halt in the face of the emptiness beneath those hoods, the hands reaching out to grab him with a touch as cold as death that cut into his skin like pinpricks.

Yet, amidst all of this, his eyes remained on that single light. He fell to his knees, gazing up at the golden crowned figure which watched back in equal measure.

At least he would die in the presence of the sun, he thought as that seeping cold raced through his veins, slowly numbing his limbs until he could only feel the desperate hum of his beating heart as it screamed out against his inescapable demise.

Then, suddenly, there was a bright flash of brilliant luminosity – so bright he could hear it like a thousand ringing bells, smell it like the air just before rain, and feel it like falling.

Falling. Sinking. Drowning. Dying.

Around him the cloaked figures keened, screaming in high tones as they sunk away from the approaching figure. The being - before only a form, a thought really, the mere concept of a figure but for those glowing orbs positioned in what would be a face – dimmed into the figure of a man.

Or, not quite a man. A man in shape, perhaps, with two legs and arms extending from a central torso. A neck, and…a face – all sharp edges and lines.

A man by all appearances, yet not. He exuded a sense of in-humanity, a distinct feeling of not being there even as he floated before the young man, arm extending out, hand gripping Dipper’s chin as that face, that strange, beautiful, terrifying face grew closer and closer. His lips opened, and his teeth were perfect and white and cuspate like those of a beast built solely for the purpose of ripping and tearing flesh.

“How fascinating.” He spoke and his voice was all at once booming and quiet – the sound of a thousand speakers and yet only one.

Dipper shivered even as his skin grew hot, too hot, painfully hot, as if his blood had been replaced with liquid metal. It seared and burned its way through him - from the place where the being touched him - filling his head with fog and heat and something else knotting painfully deep within his stomach. 

And then the being grew closer until their noses were touching, closer until he could feel the other’s breath, or, more specifically, the lack thereof. Closer still, until their faces were pressed together and Dipper felt himself fill to the point of breaking and burst into that touch, into those lips. The self he once was, all that he could be, suddenly died and was replaced before this power - this nameless deity.

There is something in the forbidden. In those things that never should be yet continue to exist even so. Like those beasts lurking deep within the darkness. Like the light which burns brighter than any other, only to lure the lost souls to a end deeper and more abysmal than conception.

That fruit, which, sweeter than any other drips its thick, glistening, honeyed juices down parted and waiting lips, dribbling in excessive succulence and choking when swallowed.

And Dipper Pines was utterly consumed.

*****************

Suddenly his life was silence. Silence in the darkness. Silence beneath watching eyes. Silence closing in around the rustling of cloth as his fingers trailed over buttons and shirked away his shirt in a waterfall of silk.

He was left naked and pale skinned in the moonlight and he turned his face from the slated window to the form waiting behind him.

Bill Cipher was his name.

Bill Cipher the deity had spoken, demanding Dipper call it to the heavy sky with its deep, dark expanse of ink and stars.

So Bill Cipher he said. Bill Cipher he moaned and begged and keened to waiting ears, his words slipping through flitting fingertips as they trailed across milky and freckled skin in wonton and searching circles.

“Dipper.” The voice breathed in a puff of moist breath against that sensitive spot on the nape of his neck – sending shivers racing over the brunette’s skin as he leaned into those cruel lips.

“Dipper.” He spoke, and even as he trailed kisses across those pale, bruised shoulders his eyes remained empty and unaffected as he watched those heavy lidded chocolate eyes flutter with every scratch and bite.

Those inviting hands trailed downward. Down to those places thought of often in quite solidarity, to warm and moist and waiting. The boy’s breath hitched, catching desperately in his throat at the feeling of those smooth hands against his length, moving swiftly, fiercely. Even so the expanse of that touch - that touch bordering on painful when combined with the rough press of teeth and fingers pulling against his scalp in a merciless grip - it drove the heat coiling in Dipper to new heights.

Within moments he was crying out, unable to contain that thing that grew within him each time he met with Bill. He screamed the other’s name, turning his head to the ceiling as tears burned in the corners of his eyes and he gripped desperately onto those dark, toned shoulders.

The blonde smirked, pulling away with reddened lips to silence the mewling boy with a kiss. He slowly moved out from beneath the brunette – lowering the boy onto bed and weighing down from above.

Everything was flashes in the shadows. It always was. There was softly curling caramel locks twisting against mocha hued flesh, the press of something deep within him. Pleasure like a cold glass, dripping with condensation amidst an overbearing heat. It filled and filled with some sweet and nameless liquid and he moaned into the listening night. A gaze like bare feet in hot sand, like fire and the resonating thrum of silence just after noise.

“Cum for me.”

The glass spilled over, dulcet liquid spreading out with sticky fingers as the brunette arched in overwhelming sensation. Collapsing he sucked in a deep breath of cool, clean air as the warmth caging him in was suddenly gone. Turning his head, he watched the familiar dark form dress in the dimming moonlight before leaving him once again alone. Laying there in the stillness and cool dampness of those moments after pleasure he blinked, and blinked again as something cool ran down the side his face - only to sink into the rumpled sheets beneath him as if it had never been in the first place.

As if this was all some terribly beautiful dream. A dream born from those hazy moments just before a dessert storm – from wavering light and emptiness and a sudden coolness that seeped into everything that once was. A dream of life and dark clouds that, once over, would vanish into the pale blue eternity as no more than a memory.

Closing his eyes Dipper willed his dreams to disperse along with the monster that haunted them.

*****************

“Dipper, this need to stop.” She spoke softly, timidly, sprinkling her words between them as if laying out some infinitely delicate thread. It hovered there, its lightness hardening with every breath, growing heavier with each unspoken word that statement implied.

Her brother said nothing. He did nothing. He stopped completely, all functions drawing to an abrupt close. His fingers, which had once filled the quite room with their rhythmic tapping grew suddenly silent.

Leaving only those words and their unspoken companions as they multiplied and filled the empty space until neither sibling could move or breath for fear of snapping the tension which stood taught between them.

“I can’t do that, Mabel.” He responded, just as gently, just as carefully. His brown eyes remained hard, unmoving – showing none of the softness evident in his tone.

“Dipper…” Mabel trailed, shaking her head in a flurry of auburn curls and teary eyes which threatened to spill any moment. It was funny, he’d never really told her about that night, that night he’d sold his soul to another.

That night he’d fallen in love with a demon.

She’d put it together though. She’d seen the bruises and bite marks that marred his flesh like brands. She’d seen the cuts and scratches. She’d seen the light slowly fade from her once lively twin.

Seen him slowly fade away even as she stood beside him, reaching out desperately in an attempt to stop something she knew was beyond her control. He had been disappearing more often lately, returning in the afternoons in a quite daze and an overwhelming sense of melancholy.

“I love him, Mabel.” Dipper whispered, as if the words sliced him open with shallow cuts. All of the previous gentility leaving his voice as his eyes flickered upward to meet his twin’s. They looked upon one another, two mirror images, not the same in appearance, exactly, but in heart and expression and soul.

“What you have isn’t love, Dipper. It can’t be love. It can’t.” His sister responded, breathless and desperate. She wanted to save him. Wanted to grab ahold of him and tear him away from whatever force had been stealing his vitality.

“Why, Mabel?” He shouted, slamming his fists against the table. “Why can’t I love him?”

But he already knew the answer. He’d always known – since the very beginning.

“It’s destroying you, Dipper.” Mabel breathed, the sadness hovering behind those clouded hazelnut eyes finally spilling over and marking her cheeks like softly winking stars.

He was making her cry. Dipper was making his sister cry. And he hated it. And he hated himself for causing it.

Yet he couldn’t stop. He’d already gone too far. He only hoped she’d accept his choice – respect his decision even as he so desperately desired to be saved.

He’d known from the beginning, after all, what awaited him. Still his heart kept beating. Still his breath refused to steady and his mind to clear.

Still his logic failed him.

Still he loved.

***********************

Their strange and unorthodox relationship ended as it begun: with the sun.

Beating down, down past sleepy streets and rooftops and a distant tree line. The timid twilight seeped in lavender and pink hues, as if through stained glass or colored water. And there - deep within the maze of trunks and catlike darkness which stretched and rolled thin libs before slinking outward with measured steps – stood two figures.

Brown eyes met amber, speaking in silent tongues.

He was tired of these games.

Tired of this broken and sickly relationship. Of this love of his.

Tired of this love.

Across from him Bill smiled, lips stretching, continuing to widen and open into a depraved grin.

“How fascinating.” He spoke, taking a step forward. Dipper held out his arm between them, completely still, the lifeless weapon in his hands glinting metallically in the fading light.

“You know I can kill you in a moment, Dipper Pines.” Bill’s eyes flashed, but Dipper didn’t waver.

“I assumed, what with you not being human and all.” He responded blankly, and the blonde snorted.

“Still, you dare defy me.” Another step, and in a blur of movement Bill was suddenly nose to nose with the brunette – his hand wrapped tightly around that slim pale throat. The other man didn’t even flinch, continuing to gaze evenly into that honeyed gaze. “We could have been wonderful, you and I. We could’ve been everything.”

“No, we couldn’t have been.” Dipper breathed, and there was a measure of sadness to his voice, of longing for something that was beyond either of their comprehensions – like a distant dream.

“No, we couldn’t have been.” Bill conceded, his grip tightening, and continuing to tighten slowly. So slowly, his jaw setting, his teeth grinding.

There was a resounding shot, the hollow crack of gunpowder in the silence of those final seconds. For a moment everything was still, the very rotation of the earth pausing in the space of a breath.

And then the blonde was slumping forward, hand going limp as he leaned into his killer with a chuckle.

“Ha. It almost tickles.” He snorted, coughing slightly as scarlet bubbled up past his lips. “I finally came here, and of course I had to meet you Dipper Pines.” He spoke to no one in particular before breaking into a fit of coughing as he leaned ever more into the arms of the brunette.

“Of course it had to be you.”

Dipper listened as Bill’s labored breathing stilled - listened as every muscle, every ligament, in the other’s body softened and relaxed. And he held him there, in the trees and peace and the world which seemed suddenly changed even as it remained the same.

Colder perhaps.

Darker.

And after a while he left it there, left that empty shell with its handsome face and golden curls and dark eyes. He left it to the earth from which it had come. Left it to be consumed until there was nothing left of the creature that had once been.

But he would remember. He would remember in his scarred flesh and his scarred soul. He was changed. Not quite different. Not quite the same. Not quite better.

But different.

And as he walked from the tree line a thousand eyes watched him with interest.

As he walked from the tree line, a single gaze followed him expectantly and it seemed as if the warm breeze that brushed past his cheek carried with it a whisper.

“How fascinating.”

Dipper smirked, turning his eyes to the sunless sky with a knowing look.

It really was, wasn’t it?

**Author's Note:**

> I have no explanation for this. Please don't hate me.  
> I just wanted to write some prose.  
> I didn't expect it to turn into this.


End file.
